


You Kiss How Being In Love Feels

by FeelsForBreakfast



Series: Holigay Oneshots [5]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:22:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelsForBreakfast/pseuds/FeelsForBreakfast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s hot chocolate and kissing what more do you want. Shameless holiday fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Kiss How Being In Love Feels

It feels a little bit like the snow is about to eat Niall up, sinking through the thick gray wool of his mittens and making a damp home in his boots. They’ve been out in the park for hours at this point, Harry and Louis on their third lopsided snowman as Liam helps Zayn with the snow fort. Surprisingly few snowballs have been thrown, though Louis did manage to nail them all the in the head once or twice.

The sun is dipping behind the copse of trees at the far edge of the park and he can feel the cold start to seep into his bones despite being wrapped up in about seven layers of clothing. Harry and Louis appear to be on their way to becoming snow monsters, and Niall isn’t sure they’re ever going to come back inside, and Liam still seems to be operating at full capacity, miming something about hair and snowmen to the other two. He looks around for Zayn, finding him only from by the sound of his voice, sullen and thickly accented. “M’cold.”

Zayn’s standing behind him, face tucked halfway into his scarf, shoulders hunched, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Niall lets out a soft laugh at his expression, a pinched face hovering somewhere between annoyance and despair. 

“You’re such a drama queen, mate.” He says with a grin.

Zayn just grunts his displeasure. “Cold.”

Niall shakes his head in amusement before calling out to the rest of the group. “Hey guys! Zayn and I are heading for hot chocolate!” He almost thinks they’re going to ignore him, much too enthralled in stabbing sticks into their snowman victim’s head, but then Liam turns to give them a wave so he figures they’re free to go.

“Come on whiney-pants.” Niall says, threading his arm through Zayn’s and tugging him through the snow and onto the salty pavement.

“I think our friends are mutants. I’m freezing my fucking bollocks off and they want more snowmen.” Zayn says, giving his head a fond shake. 

“I could easily see Louis turning into a Christmas elf.” Niall replies, causing a tired grin to break across Zayn’s face. “They’ll be in soon enough, I don’t expect Harry’ll stay warm for much longer.”

“They’re a bit like kittens.” Zayn observes as they enter the cozy starbucks on the corner. It’s almost painfully warm after the hours of snowy cold, the smell of peppermint and coffee wreathing their chilled bodies. “Spastic for hours until they crash.”

“Well what are you then?” Asks Niall, poking him in the side with a laugh.

“Eagle.” He deadpans, only a tiny glimmer in his eyes to indicate that he’s joking. Niall remembers back when they first met, when Zayn wouldn’t have even considered making any kind of joke, when Niall wouldn’t have caught the playful gleam in his eyes. He still can’t figure out if he pulled Zayn out of his shell or if Zayn pulled him in.

Niall gives a soft laugh, shoving Zayn so hard he nearly collides with a table. “If only everyone knew how much of a dork you are.”

Zayn hip checks him. “I’m not a dork.”

Niall just smiles, cheeks pink from the wind and the cold, and certainly not because he’s blushing. “You are and you know it.”

Zayn shrugs haughtily, smirking in that infuriatingly attractive way he has. “You go find us a table, I’ll get our drinks.” Niall nods, purposefully knocking Zayn with his shoulder as he passes, earning himself a smack on the head. “See if I get you anything!” He calls from his place in line, the laughter in his voice completely ruining the effect.

The place is pretty crowded, teenage girls, couples, and business people alike clumped around the tables and sprawled in armchairs. There’s soft acoustic music playing the background, but he can’t hear anything more than the strumming of guitars over the clatter of dishware and the murmur of conversation. Just when he’s about to give up on his search for a place to sit, he spies a small spot near the back corner, a tiny maroon couch that’s just opened up. 

He makes a beeline for it, plunging into the soft corduroy with a contented sigh and pulling his damp mittens off with stiff fingers. He can feel them burn and prickle as they start to warm up again, his nose and cheeks doing the same. He pulls his heavy boots off, followed by his sopping wet woolen socks, sticking them deep into the bottoms of his boots so he can pull his feet up underneath him. His hat is next, a few stray unmelted snowflakes still resting in the knit as he lets it fall to the floor, running a hand through his hair in the hopes that he can make it look more artfully tousled and less hopelessly stuck to his skull.

He’s nearly returned to room temperature once Zayn appears with their drinks in hand, his coat unzipped down the front, hat shoved carelessly into his left pocket. His hair is a mess, one half plastered to his head and the other sticking every which way, but its kindof endearing. Rumpled is a look that Zayn wears quite well. If he’s being honest, Zayn wears every kind of look well.

“You look comfortable.” Zayn observes as he sinks down beside him, their sides pressed together in the small couch.

“Its a bit of a squeeze.” Niall apologizes, scooting as close to the armrest as he can. “It seemed bigger when I was the only one sitting in it.”

Zayn snorts. “I wonder why.” He looks down at the cups in his hands, handing one to Niall. “Tall peppermint hot chocolate, extra whip.”

And it shouldn’t make him quite this pleased to know that Zayn remembers his exact drink order but it’s warm in here and it’s warm in Niall’s chest and he doesn’t really mind.

Zayn laughs at the look on Niall’s face, which he assumes has probably fallen somewhere close to awe. “What? You didn’t think I remembered your drink order?”

Niall bites his lip, wrapping his hands around the warm cup and taking a tentative sip. “It’s just nice.”

Zayn shakes his head, like he can’t believe Niall actually exists. “Of course I know your drink order you twat. Remind me again how many months I’ve spent crammed onto a bus with you.”

Niall murmurs his reply into the top of his cup, letting the smell of peppermint wash over him. If his cheeks are a little bit pink, its definitely just windburn. “Lots of months.”

Zayn smiles, taking a small sip of whatever he’s drinking. “Lots and lots of months.”

“Your hair looks ridiculous.” Niall points out a minute later, if only to justify the fact that he hasn’t exactly let his eyes stray from Zayn’s face.

Zayn shrugs, setting his drink down long enough to unwind the scarf from around his neck. “So does yours.”

A pout settles on Niall’s face. “Not that ridiculous.”

Zayn leans suddenly forward, his fingers pulling themselves through Niall’s tangled mess of blonde and brown strands. He’s got this adorable look of concentration on his face as he moves, eyebrows knit together, lips pressed in a thin line as he runs his hands upwards, spiking Niall’s hair. “There, now you’re all quiffed.” 

Niall smiles crookedly, setting his drink down so he can assess the damage with tentative fingers. “I feel bloody ridiculous.”

The other boy just shrugs, looking self satisfied enough that Niall leans forward, digging his pale fingers into Zayn’s dark hair. “Let me have a go.” 

It’s a bit damp from outside and Niall can feel the remnants of gel still sticking to its shiny dark strands, but its still incredibly soft, sliding through his grip as he pulls it upwards in some parody of what Zayn’s hair usually looks like. 

“Am I pretty yet?” Zayn asks after a moment, rolling his eyes upwards like he’d be able to see Niall’s handiwork if he tried hard enough.

“Not yet.” Niall replies, twirling a lock around his finger

“Wrong, I’m always pretty.” He replies, gleefully petulant.

A giggle escapes Niall’s lips even as he bites the bottom one to keep it in, not pulling his fingers out of the other boy’s hair. 

Zayn notices and pretends to be affronted. “Are you laughing at me? I can’t believe you!”

Niall just shrugs and removes his hands, trying and subsequently failing to stifle the next round of giggles. Zayn waits for him to regain his breath, smiling fondly at him, his hair a spiked up mess. 

“M’sorry.” He manages finally, though both of them know he isn’t sorry in the least.

“You aren’t.” Zayn replies, reaching back up to tangle his hands in Niall’s hair, messing it up even further. 

“I’m really not.” Niall agrees, a nervous warmth stirring in his chest.

Zayn just nods, that strange expression falling onto his face, the one that makes Niall squirm. It’s almost fond, but there’s something possessive there too, an intensity that maybe should be a little bit alarming but just pulls him in. “Would you be sorry if I kissed you?” He asks quietly, shifting his body so they’re fully facing each other.

And before Niall’s brain can really catch up to his body he’s shrugging, a half smile settling on his face. “Not all that sorry.”

Zayn nods slowly. “I can do not all that sorry.” And then he’s leaning forward, pulling Niall towards him and they’re kissing, cold lips and warmth mouths, eyelashes still damp from the snow. Zayn kisses how being in love feels like, warm and safe and something just this side of overwhelming. 

Niall leans into him because he kisses like he laughs, with passion and everything his has. He’s pretty sure his lips are chapped but Zayn doesn’t seem to mind. Niall thinks they probably could have continued like that for a very long time if Zayn hadn’t finally remembered their surroundings, pulling back so their foreheads rested against each other, breathing each other’s mint and cinnamon scented air.

“You know I still don’t think you’re all that sorry.” Zayn says, eyes warm and hands gentle as they slide out of Niall’s hair to cup his jaw. “I think I might have to kiss you again.”

Niall nods, jerking his eyebrows up suggestively. “I think you really might.”

And its definitely a blush that stains his cheeks pink as they stand up, hands clasped, and steal another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed, kudos and comments are always appreciated (:


End file.
